There's No Accounting For Love

Chapter Thirty

Summer arrived at last. The weather was settled and July, hot and dry. The staff could wear their summer clothes into the office and everyone felt happy and carefree.

Alan was in his office, sweating. He switched on the fan and as it whirled round, he threw himself down into the chair. He was hot and... devastated. He'd just heard that Mark was taking Clare out on a date on Friday night. He liked Mark, they all did, he was a good guy, but...going on a date with Clare?

There was a knock on his door and Angie walked in.

Alan blurted out, "Mark's taking Clare on a date!"

"I know, Catherine encouraged her to go, she wasn't that keen."

"Oh, Angie, what can I do?"

"I don't know, but perhaps we'll think of something?" Angie replied, looking straight at him. They fell silent. Alan groaned. "It's agony, absolute agony" and as he said this loudly, Clare opened the door from the corridor with a cup of tea for Alan in her hands.

"Is anything wrong, Alan? Have you got a migraine, I heard the word agony?" she asked as she placed the tea in front of him.

"No, not yet, but I could well have one soon." said Alan feeling despondent.

"Oh, take no notice," said Angie, thinking on her feet "It's just a client giving him a bit of bother." And they both left his office, leaving him to his own thoughts.

Alan yanked at his tie and stood up and looked out of his office window. He was glad their offices were on the ground floor. He hated heights. Shame, though, he could have thrown himself out of the window if he had been on the 8th  floor.

He wondered if, perhaps, it would have been better if he had been born a woman. He indulged the thought for several seconds. No, perhaps not. Some men looked women up and down in a particular way. It wouldn't be good on the receiving end. Other thoughts occurred to him. Oh no, not that! And then there was childbirth, all that pain. No. He changed his mind. He'd rather be a man, thank you. He thought of his car, he didn't know any women who drove a BMW. No. It was most definitely better being a man. He loved his car, but if he had to choose between the Beamer and Clare, then he'd choose Clare, every time.

The phone rang and Alan jumped out of his skin. What was he doing? He had a mountain of work to do and here he was day-dreaming. He answered the phone and held a long conversation with a client and spent the rest of the morning trying to concentrate on his work. He stayed in his office during the lunch time and ate ham and pickle sandwiches. He'd allow himself a half an hour break and then get back to work.

He imagined that he was taking Clare out on a date.

"I would write her a note saying:-

'Please meet me on the city centre tonight at 6.45pm under the clock. I have two tickets for a show and then we will go to a restaurant.'

She would meet me under the clock, looking gorgeous, wearing a slinky black dress showing plenty of cleavage. She would look stunning! We would watch the show and hold hands, laughing and joking. I would buy her an ice cream during the interval and I would hear a man saying "She's lovely, isn't she?" and he would point at Clare and I would feel elated.

At the end of the show, being the last to leave the building, I would stop her in the exit doorway and put my arms around her waist and kiss her passionately. A man with a bunch of keys would be waiting to lock the door. A woman at the ticket counter would say "Lucky woman", but the man with the keys would say "No, lucky man!" Clare would smile with embarrassment, but I would laugh. We would go to Giovanni's for supper. We would walk along talking and swinging our hands like we did when we were children."